


Discovering

by anemptymargin



Series: New Beginnings [9]
Category: Psych
Genre: Community: older_not_dead, F/M, Older Characters, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 01:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemptymargin/pseuds/anemptymargin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry and Karen find out that the unexpected can always happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Discovering

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [older_not_dead](http://older-not-dead.livejournal.com/) promptathon 9: New Beginnings. I tried to keep this as realistic as possible, apologies in advance for this part and the next.
> 
> Prompt: ?. ?/?. Discovering to Have a Child

Henry groaned and rubbed his eyes when he heard the loud ringtone on his phone drawing him out of sleep. Bleary-eyed, he checked the clock; 10:37 – he’d fallen asleep on the couch again. “Better be good,” he groaned, checking the call ID. “Hey, babe… figured you’d be in bed by now.”

 

“I need you,” Karen’s voice gasped on the other end.

 

He chuckled low in his throat; “Mmm, is that so? Need me to come over and tuck you in?”

 

She groaned loudly and took a labored breath, making his stomach sink – it was definitely not a late night booty call. “Not like that, Henry,” she groaned again; “I need you to come get me…”

 

When she finished her sentence retching on the other end, he told her he was on his way and headed right for the truck. The nighttime traffic was thankfully light, of course it helped that no cop in the county would hold him for going ten over the limit, but he managed door to door in less than twenty minutes to find Karen sitting on to front stoop in her nightshirt  and slippers with a bottled water and a bucket close at hand.

 

“You look like hell,” he murmured, rushing to her. Helping her up was easy enough, she practically felt like a rag doll against his shoulder.

 

She groaned and leaned heavily against him as he led her toward the truck; “Feel like hell. Think it’s just the stomach flu…”

 

“You’re dehydrated,” Henry cut her off, almost lifting her into the truck before dragging the seatbelt across her chest.

 

“I can do my own seatbelt, damn it…”

 

“Come on; let’s get you to the ER. Need me to get Iris?” Karen’s husband’s car was in the drive, but he needed to ask – if she wanted her girl there, she’d be there.

 

Karen shook her head and closed her eyes; “No, she’s sleeping… I can call my nephew if it’ll be late.”

 

He didn’t have to ask twice, only slid behind the wheel and took off. Getting her through triage was easy enough, weeknights weren’t too bad and a frustrated guy with a woman that pukes every time she takes a drink of water tend to move up a little faster on the roster than the guy with allergies and the drunk girl that fell off a curb.

 

“Are you her husband?” A young resident came in to check Karen’s vitals after the nurse had run a line for rehydration and sent out to the pharmacy for anti-nausea medication.

 

Karen’s eye’s narrowed and she said weakly; “I don’t see where that matters… he brought me in, I’m the Chief of Police – I think he’s got every…”

 

“No, I understand Mrs. Vick – I just thought he might be able to answer some…”

 

“I’m well enough to answer your questions, what do you need to know?” She glowered at him and Henry merely smiled, excusing himself to sit quietly by her side.

 

“Right, of course…” the resident physician replied, obviously flustered. “Okay, how long have you been experiencing the nausea and vomiting?”

 

She considered it a long moment; “Uh, I guess about a week or so for the nausea and the vomiting didn’t start until two days ago.”

 

“Two days? Jesus, Karen… you could have told me…”

 

“And you would have worried, Henry. It was fine.”

 

“And you were nauseous for over a week before that?” The doctor asked, more calmly.

 

“Yes, sometimes when I get sick it’s been coming on for a couple weeks before it hits me. So I’ve been a little twitchy around strong smells. It isn’t a big deal.” She closed her eyes and swallowed visibly; “I’ve also been really tired, but with the number of cases we’ve fielded this month I haven’t been sleeping either.”

 

“I see;” the doctor nodded; “and have you been sexually active in the last six months?”

 

“That is hardly any of your business!” Karen tried to sit up only to have Henry’s hand firmly on her chest – gently pushing her down.

 

“That’s got nothing to do with anything, kiddo – let that question go.” Henry added in a menacing tone.

 

The doctor sighed and marked on her chart; “It’s standard procedure, Ma’m. We have to rule out alternative diagnoses – usually gastroenteritis comes with headache, fever, maybe some cramping… it’s not very likely that’s the problem. Until your bloodwork comes back we just want to rule out what we can.”

 

She frowned and reluctantly answered; “Yes, yes I’m sexually active… but I’m forty-five, the chances of being…”

 

“And your last menstrual period?”

 

“Oh god…” Henry sighed, leaning back in his chair before fidgeting with his baseball cap. He knew all too well where those questions were headed, and the last time he’d heard them they didn’t go well. Granted, the last time he’d heard them was thirty-six years ago in a doctor’s office with a wife that’d skipped two periods even though she was on the pill.

 

“Shut up,” Karen whispered toward Henry, clearly just annoyed with his assumption as she was the doctor’s question. After a deep breath, she said; “Just over two months, but I was diagnosed as perimenopausal last year and I’m still experiencing the symptoms. I can’t be pregnant; it’s just not biologically possible.”

 

The doctor made a small, noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “I understand, Ma’m – it is highly improbable…”

 

“No, not possible,” her voice took on a threatening tone that made it very clear the subject wasn’t up to discussion.

 

Nodding, the resident made the note in her chart and took it with him as he left.

 

A long silent moment fell between them; Henry turned on the television and flipped through the channels until landing on one of the late-late hosts interviewing some second banana from a show on basic cable. When it became clear Karen wasn’t going to say anything, he asked; “So, what was that about?”

 

She didn’t respond for a long moment, and then quietly said; “I don’t like personal questions.”

 

“Yeah, I get the impression you were a little more worried about the implication you might be…”

 

“Don’t say it, Henry. I’m not. You heard the doctor.”

 

“I heard him say it’s unlikely…”

 

“Come on, Henry!” She growled, turning her head to give him a dirty look; “I’m forty-five, you’re fifty-seven. Between the two of us fertility is… is… just about zero.” Wisely, he kept his mouth shut and let her close her eyes – focusing on the low beep of her pulse monitor. After several long minutes, Karen said; “We would have used protection if either of us thought it was an issue. It’s stupid, Henry. Just the doctors trying to figure out why I don’t have a headache with the stomach flu. I don’t know, maybe it’s my gallbladder or something.”

 

“Yeah,” he answered dryly, reaching up to cup her hand on the bed; “maybe.”

 

Slowly, she turned her hand to let their fingers lace together, squeezing him gently. “It’s not possible,” she said again, less fervently than before.

 

Henry squeezed back, hesitating before he responded; “Keep saying that and maybe you’ll believe it.”

 

“What are you implying, Henry?”

 

He held fast to her hand. “Nothing.”

 

“Yeah, well it seems like you’re siding with the idiot resident physician that’s not going to have a job when the real doctors get here and tell me I have the stomach flu.”

 

He hesitated again; “And if you are?”

 

Karen sighed; “Henry, look me in the eyes and tell me you really think I could possibly be pregnant.”

 

Slowly, Henry turned toward her with sleepy eyes and a soft expression. “Maybe it is a possibility.”

 

She laughed without humor. “When I conceived Iris, my doctor told me it was some kind of miracle that I was able to at all. If my chances were that slim six years ago, there is no way in hell it’s even an option now. Don’t let the doctor’s stupid routine questions make you think otherwise.”

 

“You started it.” Henry pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t matter, even if you were, there’s no way we could raise a baby.”

 

Obviously hurt, Karen scoffed at him and offered a much more aggressive frown; “And what exactly do you mean by that? Are you saying I’m a bad mother?”

 

“No, I’m not saying that at all,” he responded calmly. “I’m saying that we’re getting older, and let’s face it… you’re still in the middle of divorcing your husband. We don’t even have our own life together, by the time we get Iris settled in to the idea that the divorce is final, we’re still not going to be prepared to have a baby in the house.”

 

“Don’t you dare bring Iris into this discussion, Henry Spencer.”

 

“I’m saying she’s an amazing kid with enough on her plate to have to think about Mommy and the old guy having a baby.”

 

The remark hung between them for a long moment and then Karen laughed dryly. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not pregnant.”

 

Henry rolled his eyes, trying to stifle the urge to say what’s on his mind. Unsuccessfully. “You sound like you almost want to have a baby.”

 

“Don’t be stupid, Henry. It’s not going to happen.”

 

“That doesn’t matter. Do you want it to happen?”

 

For a long moment she was silent, and Henry had assumed she wasn’t going to respond at all. Forcing himself to focus on anything but the argument they weren’t having, Henry listened to a band on the _Late Show_ he’d never heard of playing a cover of a song they were too young to have heard when it was released – and it was crap then. And then, softly, she admitted; “You’re right, Henry. It’s selfish to even think that way.”

 

Henry raised an eyebrow; “You seriously want another kid?”

 

“No… yes, and no. I mean, maybe it would be nice to have a family with you, but we’re too old for that.”

 

“Karen;” he squeezed her hand again, standing up to bend over the bedrail and kiss her forehead. “We have a family. Me and you and Iris – and don’t forget Shawn and Gus… hell, may as well throw in the whole damn SBPD… feels like they’re already your kids.”

 

She sighed, but a small smile clung to her lips. Henry and Iris had slowly started to spend more time together – even before the divorce proceedings had started. The five year old knew, as best as a kindergartener could, that Henry wasn’t just another guy with a badge… he was someone Mommy cared very much about.

 

Before they could dwell on it much longer, the door opened and a new doctor came in. “Mrs. Vick?”

 

“Yes, doctor… any idea what this is so I can start eating again and go back to work?”

 

The doctor nodded slowly and set her chart down on the counter by the sink, and then retrieved a small doppler device from a drawer. Henry recognized it right away, and knew that Karen would as well. “There’s no easy way to say this,” he started as he pulled on a pair of gloves; “but I’m afraid you are pregnant. The blood test confirms it.”

 

“No.” She let out a nearly hysterical laugh, shaking her head; “It’s not possible – you’ve got to be joking. Henry, tell me he’s joking.”

 

“Karen…” Henry started, gripping her hand tightly again.

 

“I’ve got an order in for an ultrasound to determine gestational age, but they won’t be able to see you until morning – we’re backed up with internal injuries in emergency. I’d like to keep you overnight, just to make sure you’re gonna be able to at least keep down liquids.”

 

She watched, wide-eyed and stunned as he took a bottle of gel from his coat pocket and approached the bedside. “You don’t understand, I can’t be pregnant. I’m perimenopausal... I’m… I’m in the middle of a divorce and I can’t be a mother of two…”

 

Ever calm, the doctor looked down at her gown and asked; “May I attempt to get a fetal sound?”

 

Karen whined audibly, clenching Henry’s fingers as she tugged up the gown with her bad arm – wiggling the IV line but unwilling to let go. “It’s impossible, I’m telling you…”

 

“It’s rare,” the doctor corrected, “but I’ve read case studies of women over fifty conceiving and even carrying to term.”

 

Henry spoke before Karen could further work herself up, a sinking sensation in his gut when heard the splat of the thick gel across her stomach followed by the dull wah-woo of the doppler being turned on to search for a heartbeat; “How rare are we talking, Doctor? I mean, what’re the chances of making this happen?”

 

The doctor ran the wand high up, toward the top of her uterine wall, slowly sliding it in search of the right sound. “Actual conception? Slim, but it happens – obviously. Carrying to term?” he sighed; “Miscarriages are pretty common in this high of a risk category – maybe as high as eighty percent.”

 

Henry swallowed hard, feeling Karen’s hand crush down on his. “So, it’s more likely than not…”

 

“They’re just numbers.” The doctor shrugged; “But, Karen, you need to understand that you’re exceptionally high risk. Not only due to your age, but you’ve got a very high stress job that according to your previous OB; you refused to leave last time you were pregnant. On top of that, with your previous history of miscarriages… it’s not looking good.”

 

Henry’s eyes shot back to Karen’s face – she looked withdrawn like he’d never seen her before. At least that explained her certainty that getting pregnant wasn’t even possible.

 

Shaking his head, the doctor set aside the doppler and wiped her belly clean. “Too soon to get anything this way, but we’ll get you up to a room and see what’s going on in the morning.”

 

Karen nodded silently, her grip on Henry’s fingers slowly letting up. “God…” she whispered once the doctor had left the room, a sob lingering just on the edge of her voice.

 

“Karen, I didn’t…”

 

“Nobody knew, Henry.” She swallowed hard, “It was between me and my medical record. My husband didn’t even know.” Her breathing hitched and Henry leaned over the bedrail to kiss her again. “We’d been trying for five years when Iris came along…” she scoffed, her lips trembling as she fought back the tears; “I thought maybe after three times that didn’t make it past the fourth month – she was meant to be.”

 

“Well…. Maybe this time…” Henry tried to comfort her, his voice stopping when her fingers clenched even tighter – weak from going so long without keeping down food or water, but still tight enough to get his attention.

 

“You heard him. Eighty percent is the best case scenario – and we both know how stacked the odds are.”

 

He sat down heavily in the chair beside her and didn’t say anything until they were moved out of emergency to share a room with a drape between them and a coma patient. Finally, he asked; “How do we proceed?”

 

After swallowing a mouthful of ice chips, carefully chewing each tiny piece to draw out her thoughts, Karen answered; “We don’t do anything. We’ll go to work and I’ll keep up on my doctor’s checks and if this time I make it far enough for people to tell, we’ll figure it out from there.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.


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